You Never Knew
by The Labyrinths Scribe
Summary: Dean and Sam have set out to takedown a new supernatural serial killer on the rise, but things usually don't go according to plan, and this is no exception. But this time? It's personal.
1. All Good Things Must Come to an End

Summary: Dean and Sam have set out to takedown a new supernatural serial killer on the rise, but things usually don't go according to plan, and this is no exception. Some things about Deans past come to light, particularly the years when he stopped hunting and disappeared at 22 only to reappear at age 28, and this time it's beyond personal. Sam's future becomes uncertain when Ruby begins acting strange, well, stranger than usual, and his life and the future of the world gets turned upside down. Dean/OC, Sam/Ruby/?? Set mid-season 4.

A/n- Yes, the summary is vague. I apologize for that, but if I said anymore my plot would be comepletey given away and then you wouldn't read the story. In any event, I appreciate you taking the time to glance at this and hope that you will be so kind as to review- give me your thoughts/wishes on the story, constructive criticism is always appreciated, etc,. I'm going to say this now before something happens and I get accused of over-reacting: I do NOT take flames well. I have a bit of a temper and I really don't like feeling angry so, please, for my sake and yours, don't flame me. If you've got something to say, say it in a polite way PLEASE. Ok. Im done now. :) Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural (as unfortunate as that is). I DO own lots and lots and lots of books, and the original characters presented in this fic (I.E., any character that you don't recognize from the show).

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Chapter 1: All Good Things Must Come to an End

Dean had been silent since they'd left. Sam wanted to ask what had passed between him and Anna but hadn't dared; Dean would either tell him it was nothing or wouldn't answer at all. Sam remained silent, opting to let Dean sort out whatever was going through head by himself. Dean, meanwhile, was recalling Anna's disappearance as well as the sacrifice she had made for them.

She sacrificed her freedom, her emotions, so that they would survive. And, not only that, she'd been willing to be punished even though Dean traded her for Sam, and she didn't judge him for it. Dean shook himself out of it. He hadn't been in love with her. He'd sympathized with her, and he'd understood her, but he hadn't loved her.

"So, where are we going next?" Dean asked the first words he'd spoken in over 4 hours.

"Minnesota. There have been 4 unexplained deaths with only two things in common; the way they died and their gender. All drowned and all were female. The victims were of various ages, heritages, physical characteristics, and none of them knew each other." Sam finished with an exasperated sigh, cracking his neck.

"So what exactly are we dealing with here? Angry spirit, Loch ness monster…?"

"I have no clue, man. It could be anything. I'm going to need some more information before I can give you a definite answer."

Dean nodded, checking the time on his watch. 2 hours to get to Minnesota before they began another hunt. Dean was starting to feel weary of this. Of hunting. Of risking his neck for people. It was just one thing after another.

First Sam died, then he had sold his soul to save Sam, then he got sent to hell, then he got pulled out of hell to be a puppet to the magic man in the sky, and then to finally win the enmity of not only every mother fucking demon out there, but the angels' as well.

Oh yeah, settling down with Mary Sue from Kentucky was starting to look really good. Dean shook his head at his thoughts. Saving people and hunting things, the family business which had taken so many lives, was what he did. It was his job, his life, and he had no right to complain, not with other people dying.

He looked to the side and snorted; Sam was passed out in the passenger seat, mouth open, complete with drool. He had done so much for his brother. Died, got sent to hell, put up with the demon bitch. And, Dean realized, he'd do it again. If he had to do it all over, he wouldn't change a thing. He pulled into a shitty roadside motel in a quaint suburban town called Farmington. He shook his brother's shoulder, jarring him awake.

"We're at the motel. Up you get, drooling beauty."

Sam frowned slightly, rubbing his eyes before getting out of the car to get the bags as Dean went in to pay for the room.

"Hi," Dean smiled at the attractive night manager of the motel. "I'd like a room for the night, two beds."

"Your name?"

"Alexander Williams. But, please, call me Alex." He shot her a wink and slid his credit card to her. She rolled her eyes.

"Ok, Mr. Williams. Here are your keys, and you're in room 212, second floor, east wing."

He smiled at her, watching her melt slightly and blush. He walked away grinning, muttering to himself "4 months in hell and I still got it…"

Sam was standing by the car looking drowsy and half asleep. Dean opened the door and threw his jacket on one of the beds, running a hand through his hair. Sam threw the bags on the floor and flopped onto the nearest bed, asleep almost immediately.

Dean shook his head before heading to the shower, deciding that it would be worth the hot water now instead of cold in the morning, after Sam had taken an hour. He was worse then a girl in that respect. Dean smiled, thinking about it and shaking his head before growing serious.

Sam couldn't come with him anymore. This wasn't his world, not anymore. He'd had the platinum life before he showed up. Sam had a good life for him, a bright future with the perfect girl, a career, a few kids, hell maybe even a dog.

But then Dean had come waltzing in with the family business, minus one member of the family, and royally fucked up Sam's future. His fiancé was murdered and, thanks to Dean's persuasion, his career ended, as did his bright future.

Dean shook his head. He never should have gotten Sam involved. Now, Sam was fooling around with a goddamn demon, helpful or not, and had some freaky set of black mojo powers. Dean leaned against the wall of the shower, his head resting against the cool porcelain. He would keep him out of the way from now on.

Send him on a few wild goose chases here and there, let him kill something every 2 or 3 hunts to keep him in the dark, but keep him out of harms way. He knew, by now, that the angel's would make good on their word; if Dean didn't stop Sam, they would. He sighed, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. Starting tomorrow, Sam would be put out of the way.

Pulling on a pair of sweats, he crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling. He looked over at his brother, who was sleeping soundly without a care in the world. He was too relaxed for this life. He rolled over to one side and felt himself slowly slipping into a state of oblivion. It was time for another night of nightmares and memories of hell, and all that entailed. Oh joy.

When Sam awoke in the morning, Dean was ready to walk out the door and, realizing that Sam was awake, made a point of tapping his watch with a grin.

"'Morning, Sammy. Better hurry up and get dressed, we've got a lot to do today."

Sam frowned, his mind still hazy. "Dude, why are you so…happy?"

Dean looked at him with curiosity. "What do you mean 'happy'? I'm no different than I usually am."

Sam thought about it for a moment before saying "Dude, you're never this happy in the morning. And what the hell are you doing up before me anyway?"

"Wait a minute, Dean did you sneak a girl into here last night when I was asleep?" Sam's face portrayed disgust and growing apprehension.

"No! I told you, nothing's different."

"…Did you-?"

Dean abruptly cut him off. "No! Dude, seriously, drop it. I can wake up before you upon occasion, can't I?"

Sam nodded slightly, seeming to accept Dean's reply.

"So where are we going?"

Dean paused slightly. "I'm going to do some digging with the victims' families. _You_ are going to Washington."

Sam stopped in his tracks, spinning around. "Washington? Why the hell do I need to go there?"

Dean continued getting ready to leave and didn't pause when he spoke- mostly because he had spent the better part of 5 hours practicing what to say in the bathroom mirror.

"New case opened up. Looks like its more vampires- the nasty kind. There have been several attacks within the past few weeks and the time elapsed between attacks is getting shorter. We obviously can't leave this case yet; whatever killed those girls is likely still out there. But we can't ignore the vampires either, so we do what the situation calls for; Divide and conquer."

Dean tossed the file full of false articles and morgue reports to Sam, hoping his face didn't betray the lie he was telling. Sam accepted the file with an exasperated sigh.

"Sure dude. How am I going to get there?"

Dean grinned. "That's one of the reasons I got up so early. Come check it out." He strode outside with a smirk on his face.

Sam walked outside and felt his eyes widen. "What the hell?"

Dean smiled, his eyes roaming the car. "Couldn't let you take my car; you might screw it up. So, I got you your own car; 1973 Chevy Laguna black exterior, black interior."

Sam looked up at him in surprise and suspicion. He took a look inside the car. It wasn't as well kept or mint as Dean's Impala, but then Dean always acted like that car was family anyway. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you buying me car? Is something going on?"

Dean looked up at him, his eyes innocent. "Nope. Just thought it would be a little easier for you travel. Wouldn't want you to get picked up by some lonely trucker, especially with how pretty you are."

Sam gave Dean an aggravated, sarcastically disbelieving look. "Jerk.

"Bitch. Get going. Apparently these blood suckers are under the impression that a human a day keeps the dermatologist away."

Sam rolled his eyes. "And you expect me to leave without my clothes?" He made a motion to go back into the hotel.

"Already packed, they're in the trunk. The knife's packed too, as well as couple pounds of salt, some random sharp pointy objects, the usual stuff."

Sam frowned slightly as Dean tossed him the keys. He seemed too…eager for him to leave. He got in the car none the less, surprised to discover that his iPod had been hooked up. He gave Dean an inquisitive glance.

"The lovely hotel manager helped me install it." Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively, refusing to admit that he had spent almost an hour trying to figure it out by his self.

Sam rolled his eyes once more before pulling out of the parking space, giving Dean a curt, mocking wave.

Dean pulled out a cell phone and put it in the glove box. "I'll call every so often to check in."

Sam nodded before speeding off, leaving Dean alone in the hotel parking lot. Dean smiled with accomplishment even though, at that moment, he'd never felt more alone.

He rubbed the back of his neck slightly before heading inside of the motel room and taking a swig of his coffee. He had just enough warning to prepare himself before he heard a familiar voice say "Don't you trust him?"

Dean turned around to look at Castiel with caution. "Of course. It's you and your kind that I don't trust."

Castiel's dark, calculating eyes searched him for a moment. "So why would that warrant you to send him away?"

Dean took another drink of his coffee. "I'm trying to keep him out of hunting for his own good, because the last thing that I need is to find out that the angels want my brother dead because he made a bad decision."

"What, you mean like sleeping with a demon?"

Dean paused. "Not the best example I could come up with but, yes, like sleeping with a demon."

Castiel kept eye contact with Dean, as though searching him for indecision. "Consorting with a demon, physically or mentally, is not the wisest of decisions."

"Neither is consorting with angels- you've brought a shit load of trouble too, you know."

Castiel smiled then, though the smile had no feeling in it. "That is also true. Apparently you Winchester boys aren't terribly bright, are you?"

Dean began to feel himself getting defensive when he realized that Castiel was trying to make a joke. He smiled, more for Castiel's benefit, and said "I don't suppose you'd be willing to shed any light on this case?"

Castiel shook his head slightly. "No, I can't. But please, Dean, keep in mind that children of mixed supernatural blood are very powerful, very dangerous, and much sought out. Whom ever their parent's are, are in very great danger because there are thousands of creatures that would be more than willing to die to get their hands on such a child."

Dean frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You will understand in time, Dean. It is up to you if you should choose to be the Champion when the time comes."

Dean closed his eyes briefly, contemplating what Castiel had just told him before opening them to see that Castiel was, in fact, gone. He shook his head before donning the jet black Armani suit. He grimaced as he looked in the mirror; he looked like some Beverly Hills schmuck. He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and prepared himself to visit several grieving families.

* * *

Dean pulled another tissue out of his pocket and handed it to the sobbing woman, a sympathetic smile on his face. "…and I just miss her so much! She was gone away to college for so many years and I never even got to say good bye."

Dean nodded. "We're doing all we can to figure out what's going on M'am. We'll figure out what happened to your daughter."

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" The large, sobbing woman gave Dean a bear hug and he couldn't help but choke. She had the arms of a god damn wrestler! He felt himself going blue when she finally released him as he stumbled blindly out of her home, tugging at his tie.

He slid into his Impala and shut the door with a loud 'click'. Another dead end. He was starting to run low on 3 things; Patience, victims, and Kleenex. He didn't know how much more he could take. Next family: Walsh.

"How goes it?"

Dean slammed on his breaks and gritted his teeth, glaring slightly at Castiel.

"Was that really necessary?"

"My apologies. I hadn't realized that you were so poor at driving that a voice would shock you."

Dean grunted. He refused to be amused with Castiel's second attempt at a joke; his patience was thin enough as it was.

Castiel looked at him with unfeeling eyes. "I'm sorry to have left you so soon earlier. I was called and had to answer."

Dean kept his eyes on the road. "Just like a good little slave."

Castiel cocked his head to the side, frowning. "We are servants of Lord. He gives us the free will to choose whether or not we follow him."

"Free will? If he was so keen on free will and choices, not to mention forgiveness, then what about Anna? Why not give her the choice to remain on Earth as she was; a human. Fine. Take the Angel mojo out of her, but leave her alone."

Castiel cringed slightly. "Anna disobeyed the Lord. That is forbidden in our world. She did not do as she was commanded."

Dean shook his head. "Ordering the torture and death of a person because they disobeyed, because they dared to ask a question? Because they got tired of not feeling anything? Oh yes, that's going to cause a fucking apocalypse. Some God of forgiveness."

"You would defy him? You would challenge him?"

Dean shook his head, suddenly calm. "Not challenge, no. I disagree with him, and I don't like all that he does and the rules that he makes, but I don't challenge him. That wouldn't be very bright of me, now would it?"

Castiel stared at him unblinkingly. "And if Sam was on the line? If you had to defy, to challenge, God in order to save her, would you?"

Dean frowned. "Sam is male, remember?"

Castiel looked out the window, his eyes scanning the landscape as they passed bye. "It wasn't your brother to whom I was referring."

Dean frowned and shot him a confused look. "What are you talking about? I don't know any other Sam." He paused for a moment, trying to come up with a mental check list of all the female "Sam's" he knew, but cleared his throat as he realized there were simply too many girls whose names he couldn't remember.

"You will, and you will defy heaven and hell for her."

"What the hell are you talking about?

"You'll see."

Dean turned to look at him only to realize that Castiel was gone, and that he'd arrived at his next destination. He pulled over on the side of the road, taking note of his surroundings before pulling up a file.

_Name: Lyla Williams_

_Age: 19_

_Occupation: Swimmer_

_Parents: Deceased._

_Residence: Living with an Uncle and his family on her father's side._

_Family: Lisa and Russell Fox; Daughter, Samantha Fox._

He quickly scanned what he could see from the outside of the home. A large, nice home in a good neighborhood. Solid cherry wood doors, 2000 Lexus in the driveway in addition to a medium sized SUV. The family is, or was at some point, very wealthy. He straightened his tie, for once glad that the Armani suit would come in handy.

He pulled out his badge and cracked his neck before ringing the doorbell.

A taller, older man answered the door.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"My name is Alexander Williams, FBI. I'm here to speak to you about your niece's death."

"Please come in." Dean smiled at the man before entering the home and gave the house a quick and appraising glance. His first assumption had been correct. They were, to put it mildly, very wealthy.

"Oh, for the love of God!" His head turned sharply as spied a tall, leggy blond with fierce brown eyes. He sent an appraising glance her way but was surprised to see her roll her eyes and send him a dirty look.

"We've already told the police everything we know. We don't know anymore. And, frankly, we are fucking sick of people barging in here every other day of the week to interrogate us further. Just leave us alone already! Let us mourn in peace for Christ's sake."

"Sammi!" Her father sent her a sharp look. "He is a guest in our home and you will _not_ speak to him that way. And shouldn't you be at swimming practice?"

"I'll speak to him however I want to. And, yes, I should be at swimming practice. But I'm not going today because today, I actually get to have fun. I'm going to 1st Av. Club downtown with some friends."

"Samantha! Swimming is your future, you can't just skip practice because you feel like it!"

"Why not? I've spent _years_ working on my career! Why can't I just have some fun once in awhile? I'm so sick of not being able to go out with my friends because I have responsibilities. I'm 22 for god's sake! I missed _prom_ because of a damn swim meet. You tell me, how was that in any way fair?"

"Samantha, you will do what I say! I am your father!"

"Yes, you are. But I'm 22 years old and I'll do what I damn well please!"

Dean stood back watching the heated argument with interest. She was such a spit fire. He mused that he would _not_ like to be on her receiving end. She flung her bag over her shoulder a slammed the door behind her, leaving an awkward silence in her wake as the Lexus tore out of the drive way, tires squealing. Her father sighed and rubbed his temples, he gave a half-hearted smile to Dean. "We should probably get started."

Dean nodded and pulled out his notepad and pen as the questions began.


	2. My Salvation and Demise

A/n- Chapter 2 is up, mostly because its already been written but w.e., right? PLEASE review both this chapter and the previous one if you havent already. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, only the original characters who you probably don't recognize because they aren't in the show (way to state the obvious, huh?).

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My Salvation & Demise

Sam tapped out the beat to the song as he drove, shaking his head with a slight smile. How ironic. He gets a car of his own, and is now therefore able to listen to his own music for once, and he listens AC/DC. His eyes remained on the road in front of him, only occasionally drifting towards his phone, which remained on his dash board. The phone rang and he picked it up cautiously, glancing at the caller ID. Of course.

"Hey."

"Hey Sam, what's kickin?" Ruby's playful sarcasm made him smile.

"I'm on my way to Washington. Dean got wind of a vampire nest and he sent me to check it out before things got out of hand."

"Really? I've been here two weeks and haven't heard a thing about it. Though there is some strange shit going on."

"Yeah, like what?"

"People are going nuts over the job situations up here. So many companies are closing down that people are out of jobs, and unable to find any more. They're torching factories, rioting in the streets- the lesson from MLK has apparently not been learned."

Sam frowned. "Damn. Demons I get, but people are just crazy. How do you know about this?"

"Well, when you get to whatever divvy, dumpy motel you're going to stay in, turn on the news. It's everywhere. Long story short, there's some serious shit going on here. I don't know if it's exactly supernatural-related, but it seems a little extreme."

"Huh. No vampires, but riots? Maybe Dean got case files mixed or something, but that's not like Dean." He frowned, pondering the fact that Dean could have possibly screwed up, but decided not to read too much into it.

"Right, well-" His phone beeped irritatingly in his ear. He stopped speaking when he looked at the caller ID. Dean. "I've got to go, Ruby. I'll call you when I'm in town."

"Later, Sam."

He clicked over to the other line. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sam. What's up?"

"Not much yet dude. I'm still about an hour outside of Seattle. How's the case going?"

"Well, I think I figured out what we're dealing with."

"And that would be…?"

"Tinkerbell and her pet fish. Faerie's, Sam. Fae are creatures of Celtic origin that toy with humans' lives whenever they see fit. The 'fish' I'm referring to is one of the other creatures under their control; a Kelpy."

There was silence on Sam's end before he burst into laughter. "Dean, come on. Fairies? That was a good joke though. Tell me what you really think it is."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Dude, we hunt vampires and demons and werewolves for god's sake! What would possibly make you think I was kidding?"

Sam sighed. "Well, the slightly disturbing Tinkerbell analogy may have had something to do with it but sure, ok…fairies."

"Yeah…Listen, I've got to go. I'm tracking down a possible victim and can't concentrate with your nagging lack of faith."

Sam rolled his eyes before letting out a short laugh. "Red head?"

Dean grinned. "Blonde with legs from here to the moon and a glare that almost makes you want to run away and hide under your bed sheets, though I wouldn't mind if she joined me."

Sam chuckled. "Alright, have fun and try to get _some_ work done, alright?"

"I plan on it. Well, the first part definitely. Later,"

Sam snapped his phone shut with a click. He snorted and shook his head slightly…'Fairies…'

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dean closed the phone slowly, a smile on his face. He set it on the table and sat on the bed, his head in his hands. He took several deep breaths before opening his eyes. It was happening again. Every time he blinked he saw their faces. His fist clenched before releasing. Those no good, son of a bitches were back to cause trouble. Going up against them again was the last thing he wanted, especially after what had happened last time.

_~Flashback~_

_Dean was manic; insane with grief and anger. He took a swig off of his Vodka bottle before continuing to sharpen his sword. He'd gotten for his birthday from Lina, when he was 18. His heart lurched and he took another swig off of the bottle. This was going to require a lot of alcohol. The sword was made of solid iron, not the best metal to use anymore but the only that could be used to harm a being of a Fae race. _

_He slid the sword back into its sheath, and strapped it around his waist. A .45 caliber pistol tucked into his back pocket, he strode out the door with the bottle in his other hand. He went down to the river bottoms and carefully sliced his wrist, letting the blood drip onto the angel food cake he bought in the store and threw it into the water while quickly tying a scrap of cloth over his bleeding wrist to staunch the wound._

"_You, summoned me human?" He spun slightly seeing an attractive man with glowing brown eyes. Dean strode over to the man and swiftly lunged, pinning the man against the tree with his iron sword against the creature's throat._

"_Yeah, I summoned you. Before I gut you like the bottom feeder you are, I want to know something; I want to know why you killed my wife."_

_~End Flashback~ _

Dean shook himself out of his memories and cracked open a beer before shaking his head and walking over the sink, splashing some cold water over his face. He couldn't allow himself to get into this again. It happened so long ago, but now this case was forcing all of his memories to rush forward; the cruel, tormenting laughter, and the heart pounding desire to do whatever was asked of him- like a good little slave.

His stomach twisted at the thought. He'd been used by them, mistreated, abused, and all for nothing. She still died. Now, he had the chance to avenge both of them; his wife and his daughter.

_~Flashback~_

_Dean was 22, empowered, cool, and a bad ass; he had the leather jackets, the old car, the guns, and the playboy attitude. He was traveling through Kansas City, Missouri and decided to check up on an old friend. He pulled into the drive way and admired the colonial house; white pillars in the front, a decorative rocking chair on the front porch, and wide rectangular windows perfectly spaced._

_The manicured lawn was plain, sunflowers planted in the front of the house. It was a beautiful home, but had a very down-to-earth feel. He smiled and knocked on the door, rolling his neck to get the crick out. The door opened and Dean instantly smiled. The girl was pale skinned with large, expressive blue eyes and curled mahogany hair. She leaned against the frame of the door. "Well, well. Dean Winchester."_

"_Hello, Lina."_

"_Welcome back." With this, she grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him inside, kissing him as she kicked the door shut._

_~End Flashback~_

Dean smiled fondly at the memories being produced and shook his head, laughing. She was something else… She always had been. He smiled then, looking at himself in the mirror. He wore dark, faded, black jeans with a crisp button down white shirt, and his well-worn black leather jacket to complete the outfit. Grinning to himself, he strode out of the hotel, cell-phone lying on the table.

~*SC*~

Sammi strode into the club, wincing slightly as her ears took a moment to adjust to the level of sound being emitted from the center stage. A local band was playing live and Sammi had to admit, the music wasn't too bad. They weren't exactly the Kings of Leon, but they were pretty good. With measured steps, she made her way towards the back, where she knew her long-time friends, Carson and Whitney, were waiting for her.

She smiled, suddenly having an adrenaline rush-like sensation. Freedom. Not allowing swimming to control her life, not allowing her father to control her life. Subconsciously, her body swayed to the music, her tight fitting washed-out jeans showing off every curve. Her halter top was bleach white, making a stark contrast against her faded blue-jeans, and her hair fell into a cascade of curls down her back. Her hair wasn't really very long, she'd kept it fairly short- shoulder length, anyway. But it suited her, and framed her face in the right way, making it appear slender and elegant.

Her mouth quirked into a smirk when she reached her table, seeing that Whitney and Carson were fending off would-be dance partners. She shook her head and grinned slightly. Those two; Similar and yet not the same.

"Hey, guys!"

They looked up, each grinning. Carson grinned and gently kicked out a chair for Sammi to sit in. Carson inquired "What took you so long? We were starting to think that you bailed on us…"

Whitney promptly chimed in "Yeah, why are you so late?"

Sammi rolled her eyes towards the heavens and sighed in exasperation, her hands flicking in irritation. "Another FBI guy showed up on our front door step today. I'm just so sick of them! We told them all we know, so why can't they just leave us alone?"

Carson smiled sympathetically. "Well, they're trying to find out what happened. Sometimes new people think of new things that the other person didn't. After all, wouldn't it be just if they caught the son of a bitch that did that to your cousin?"

Sammi shrugged. Of course it would. She wanted nothing more than for that good-for-nothing bastard to get what he deserved but…She just wanted to be left alone. Was that so wrong?

Whitney took sip of her coke before saying "Well, yeah, but sitting there with someone 40 year old, single, cat-man and having to answer personal questions you've already answered is just irritating."

Sammi paused slightly, a feral grin coming to her features. "Yes to the second, no to the first. While I am sick of all the questions, this new FBI guy that came to our house? Very much _not_ a 40 year old cat-man. He looked pretty young for FBI, actually, maybe 26, 27? Dirty blond hair, amazing hazel eyes, and a very obviously well built body."

Carson raised an eyebrow "I'm sorry, I'm a little lost in the subtext. Are you talking about an Abercrombie model or an FBI agent? Or, maybe, an under wear model?"

They laughed and Sammi waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Well, I didn't get a great view but I'm fairly certain he could pull of all three. Though he was a little too…James Dean to pull off being an Abercrombie model. Maybe Banana-Hammock, I mean Banana Republic?"

Carson and Whitney both cracked up. Carson covered her mouth with her napkin, and forcedly swallowed the soda she had in her mouth before coughing. Whitney grinned and bit her lip slightly. "So, are we talking grade A or B material here?"

Sammi chuckled and said "Definitely A. Maybe A+. I'm honestly starting to wish I was his personal doctor, or trainer; At least then I could get an eyeful."

All three cracked up at this and Sammi shook her head before turning her chair around to face the dance floor. Her eyes were wandering over the couples on the dance floor, when her eyes met those of a golden hue. Her breath caught for a moment and she felt like she couldn't breath. He was about 6'0 tall, with black hair that was gelled in such a way to make it stand up but still look natural. His warm golden-toned eyes slowly turned honey brown and continued to darken into a deep chocolate brown. He slowly made his way over to her, weaving in and out of the crowds.

Her gut wrenched slightly but she dismissed it as nervous butterflies "in her stomach". Carson and Whitney chatted, but were hardly oblivious to the man approaching the table.

He smiled slightly at Sammi, after pausing about a foot and a half away before saying "I'm sorry, I'm sure this is going to sound strange but, when I saw you across the room, I had the feeling that you and I would get along amazingly well. I'm Jess, by the way."

Sammi smiled at him then, her heart pounding loudly in her head as she searched her mind for the right thing to say. "Really? And, how did you know that? I'm Sammi, by the way."

Jess smiled. "Your eyes were the give away. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, you know. And yours…so expressive and open, I couldn't help but feel enamored, could I?"

Sammi felt herself melt slightly, despite her realistic nature.

"Would you like to dance?" His voice was soothing and dark. The tone was seductive and Sammi vaguely thought that, when he said it like that, it sounded so much more provocative than it ought to be.

"Well…" She had been about to reply when Whitney and Carson, clearly not giving her an option to say no, kicked the back of her chair simultaneously and pitched her forward slightly, right into his waiting arms.

"Excellent…" She heard him murmur darkly.

They danced the night through, stopping only when the music stopped, and even then the two remained swaying to their own music. His eyes never left hers, not once. They drew her in and Sammi felt herself being drawn outside by the hand and tried to stop her body from moving, only to find that she couldn't.

She was no longer in control of her own body, but that couldn't be, could it? Her mind struggled against this violently, but could do nothing. She was powerless to stop it now. Absolutely, and completely powerless. A song seemed to fill her ears, but not that same that was playing from the loud speaker in the background. No, this song was haunting and slow. Her eyes were slightly glazed over as she was led through the back doors, her mind desperately fighting the control he had over her mind.

She was lead a few blocks away, to Nokomis Beach. He let go over her hand once she was near the shore and stood a few feet away, watching her.

"You're very strong, you know. Most of my victims aren't even aware that there's something to be afraid of until the very end, but you tried to resist my efforts almost the instant you came here. And then, even under my thrall, still you fight the power I have over you. It's an amazing feat, let me assure you."

He turned his back on her for a moment, facing the water and the moon.

"It's a pity that you have to die, really. You're so bright, and strong. I'm sure my colleagues would have enjoyed your presence, very, very much. But, well? What can I say? Time is short; This can only be done when the moon is high in the sky and the victim in thrall, and the thrall won't last for much longer."

He faced her again, his eyes glowing slightly, the color turning into a honey-gold; the same as when she first saw him. He stepped forward again and placed his arm around her, leading her towards the water while he murmured soothing sounds into her ear.

"I am sorry about this, you know, but a deal's a deal, and your coach didn't pay up and so she must now suffer the consequences."

Sammi was mentally exhausted. She had been battling him for well over an hour and felt that she wouldn't be able to stand if his thrall hadn't ordered her body to remain standing. He took her hands and pulled her into the water until she was about waist deep. He kissed her forehead gently and pushed her shoulders down until she was on her knees. With a sad smile, he gently pushed her head underwater.

She struggled wildly against his control, against her body's blind obedience but it was no use. She immediately employed her breathing technique, the same she used when she was swimming and opted to hold out for as long as she could. 2 minutes passed before she felt her consciousness fade and her vision blurred. Her last breath was gone and the water filled her lungs.

'Jess' watched the scene above the water, shaking his head. "Such a pity…" He left the water when he felt her consciousness fade and had been making his way back to the club when he heard them, the footsteps. Down the hill came Carson and Whitney, charging towards the water.

"Damn, friendship to hell." He muttered. She wasn't quite dead yet and if one of them managed to pull her out of the water before the spell was complete, well….

He hastened back towards the water, running at supernatural speed until he stood before them. "Now, girls, it's been a long night and I'm tired, so please, go away and forget what you've seen. I don't want to have to kill you too."

He stepped forward menacingly, surprised when neither girl backed down but continued to stare at him defiantly. The girls glanced at each other very briefly before nodding at one another, they seemed to understand each other's intentions. The separated slowly and came to stand on either side of him.

He looked at them both and briefly mused at how stubborn humans were, and how loyalty was a common principal. It was not very common in his own world, but he appreciated it none-the-less. He sighed and opened his mouth to speak, saying "I don't want to do this, can we please just forget?"

Carson felt a strange feeling wash over her, a sense of uncaring. She shook her head violently and jumped ahead of Whitney's cue, running forward and body slamming the man to the ground. The moment Carson started running, so too did Whitney. As they fell to the ground, Whitney dove into the water, swimming to the bottom of the lake where Sammi lay resting.

Carson and the man struggled for awhile before he gained control and back-handed her, sending her flying to the ground in the opposite direction. He growled in irritation and turned to face the other way, before moving towards Whitney, who had resurfaced with Sammi in her arms. As he marched forward, the girl looked up at him defiantly and shielded Sammi from his view as though to protect her.

Gun shots rang out and the man stumbled backwards. Dean's eyes widened, first in disbelief and then in anger. "You!" Jess promptly vanished, the spot where he had been standing was glowing slightly before fading off. Sammi had instantly spit up the water from her mouth after Whitney revived her and she grabbed Dean's jacket tightly when he neared. "I'm not letting go until you tell me what's going on, okay Mr. FBI guy?" Despite her joking words, she was serious and angry, very angry.


	3. Tamed and Destroyed

A/n- Thank you to everyone who reviewed/added to their alert or favorites list, it gives me encouragement that my story isn't too unworthy, apparently. :) The majority of this chapter is memories from Dean, and I realize it can be a bit confusing so just bare with me. Read on! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I only own a starbucks coffee cup, some paper, a few pens, and lots and lots and lots and lots of books, (more than my school library, in fact!).

Chapter 3: Tamed and Destroyed

Dean helped pull Sammi to her feet after she had regained her senses, though she was still clutching tightly to his jacket. He cautiously stepped away from her as she came to stand on her own, to see if she would be able to handle walking. She managed to hold her own for a few seconds before her legs came out from under her.

His arm deftly slipped around her waist to keep her from falling. She made an irritated growl, as though angry at herself for being unable to stand up on her own. Dean found it both amusing and endearing at the same time.

"Ok, on my back!" She looked at him with skeptical eyes, her body language saying what her voice wasn't; He _had_ to be kidding. He rolled his eyes. "Look, you can't walk 'cause you can barely stand, and we don't want to be here unprepared when that thing comes back, especially now that you've escaped. I'd imagine that it's probably not too happy about that."

Sammi seemed to weigh her options, alternating glances with Whitney and Carson. The girls shrugged their shoulders with indifference. It was her decision. Carson kept a careful eye on Dean, realizing from Sammi's earlier statement that _this_ was the FBI agent that she had described as a possible model. Regardless of his natural physical appeal, Carson was generally more suspicious of a person before allowing herself to swoon.

The fact that he'd lied to Sammi and was impersonating a federal agent had pushed Carson's suspicions of the man to the forefront of her mind. She lagged behind to watch his interaction with her two friends. He'd saved them from…whatever that thing was, and his body language told her that he was genuinely concerned for her friend's well being, but…Carson had issues with people who weren't honest.

She disliked being kept in the dark about something, even if it was for her own good, and especially disliked people who weren't forthcoming. So far, he seemed to be on their side and was interested in helping them. Carson came to the decision to withhold judgment until a later time, when she would be able to come to a better conclusion. After much grumbling and muttering, Sammi eventually did climb on his back, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Sam pulled into the roadside motel just outside of Seattle, Washington. He'd do his research and catch a little shut-eye before heading out. As he pulled in, he couldn't help but notice a few unusual characters outside of the motel. They were arguing pretty heatedly and Sam couldn't help but notice that they weren't your average scumbags or users that usually hung out at these places. He smiles slightly, remembering Jessica for a moment before sighing and going inside to get his keys.

Sammi was exhausted to say the least. She was physically and mentally drained; too tired to even care that she was being given a piggy-back ride by a super hot FBI agent. How messed up was _that_? She briefly closed her eyes, allowing herself to decompress and digest what she'd been through, what her friends had just been through.

That bastard, whatever he was, had been planning it from the beginning. She probably wouldn't even be alive right now if it wasn't for her mothering, too-interested-in-her-life, over-protective friends. She could hardly fathom what could have happened if they hadn't been there.

Sammi smiled slightly, making a mental note to buy each of them a _really_ big chocolate bar. She allowed her head to rest on his shoulder, her face turned inwards towards the nape of his neck. She couldn't help but think that, for a straight guy, he had pretty decent taste in cologne; it wasn't too flowery, and it wasn't so over powering that she had to wonder if he was wearing it to cover up the fact that he hadn't showered.

Her friends walked beside her, one on either side. They gave her encouraging looks when she turned to face each of them, but she knew that they were hardly that happy. Whitney was soaked to the bone, probably freezing her ass off, and Carson was starting to sport a large shiner from where she'd been backhanded. That had to hurt.

Sammi, while both bruised and sopping wet, had been given Dean's jacket to keep her warm. Though, she mused, his body heat was doing a pretty good job of that. Dean himself was fairly silent. He would occasionally ask her if she was alright, if she need to stop for a moment, etc,.

All in all, he seemed to be conscientious of her condition, and seemed to actually care. That was a first. As Sammi turned her thoughts away from Dean and the incident, her mind turned towards her parents. What was she going to tell them? She and Whitney were soaked to the bone, and Carson looked like she gotten into a fight with a brick wall and lost. How was she going to explain this?

"I think we should head back to my motel room so you can get yourselves cleaned up and we can talk about what happened tonight." Dean said, his voice penetrating her thoughts.

"What about our parents?" She had to ask, she couldn't just leave them hanging, right?

"You can use my cell to call them, tell them your having a sleep over or something."

She barely kept a snort in. Sleep over. Like they were going to buy _that_ excuse. She nodded none the less, deciding to come up with a better excuse on the way to the hotel. She was mentally drained though, her mind filled with a heavy fog. She flapped her hands at her friends and said "Ok guys, help me figure something out."

Dean almost pouted. "What was wrong with the sleep over excuse?"

Carson snickered. "C'mon, you don't think her parent's would _really_ believe that, do you? We're a little too old for that to work anymore."

Dean shrugged, his pride slightly wounded. "Well how the hell should I know? I'm not a teenage girl!"

At this all three had rolled their eyes, thinking that that much was obvious. Whether due to head trauma, or exhaustion, Sammi couldn't help but picture him in her old school uniform; Black jumper, black knee highs, black shoes, with a white polo. It was horrific and terribly, terribly funny.

As she started to laugh, Dean and the others had all but stopped, all three of them looking at her curiously. Eventually, Dean arrived at his Impala, which he had parked a few blocks away on account of the rough neighborhood. Carson hurried to unlock and open the passenger door as Dean helped Sammi get into the car.

Sammi buckled herself in and couldn't help but almost instantly drift off to sleep. The seat was slightly reclined, and the car was warm. Carson and Whitney slid into the backseat, Carson sulking because she'd been searching for the exact same car for several years and had no luck. Whitney had been silent, surprisingly, and Sammi meant to question her about it later.

No sooner did Sammi start to truly fall asleep, Dean turned the car on, and with the car being turned on, so too was the radio. She jolted awake, even though Dean had quieted it almost immediately after it had started. Of course; Eye of the tiger. She began to sing the song, a happy memory from her sophomore year resurfacing, as too did Dean. It was amusing, to say the least. Neither were very proficient singers, though Sammi at least could stay in tune.

They pulled into the motel a short while later, it was somewhat divvy, but definitely not as bad as she and a few other choice friends had seen on their college road trip 3 summers ago. He fumbled with the keys only for a moment before sliding the door open, surprised to see the lights on only for a second, before he dropped his keys, before he dropped his bag of take-out Chinese he'd gotten to share with the girls, and he very nearly dropped Sammi.

There, standing in front of the vanity mirror, toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth, was John Winchester. And there, with her head poking out of the bathroom door was his mother, Mary Winchester. And then there was Castiel, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him with emotionless, expressionless eyes.

"We have some things to discuss, Dean." Castiel said in his monotone drawl.

Deans jaw tightened in fury. "Oh, you're damn right we do!" He inhaled sharply, his heart pounding in his chest. His head felt like it was going to split open, the pain was so great. Memories came rushing towards him, fast-paced and hard as hell. Anna. His father. Werewolf. Vampire. Hell. Hell. Hell. Awakening in the middle of a dead zone. Sam's girlfriend, Jessica. Lina. Lina. Avery. Lina. Lina. Lina. Avery. Jess. Fairy. Avery. Lina. With his distortion of memories all mixing into one, he crashed to the floor in a heap, Sammi sliding off of his back. He could see his father walking towards him quickly, but his vision was blurred, being over-run by visions of the past. He closed his eyes slowly, hearing people calling his name, as memories began reforming in his mind.

**_Dean: Age 22_**

_**Dean relaxed in the king size bed, Lina sleeping beside him. He watched her for awhile, remembering when they first met. **_

* * *

_Dean: Age 11_

_He was 11 at the time, and though she was 1 year younger than him, she was definitely more mature. His father had picked up on the demon's trail, and didn't want the boys getting hurt or, as Dean said, in the way. _

_So, after driving from state-to-state for three days, they arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before but he wasn't surprised; They traveled so many places so often, that he was used to seeing thing's he'd never seen before._

_As the pulled into the driveway of the large home, Dean remembered thinking to himself 'What the hell are we doing here?' He was used to staying in cheap motels, and occasionally staying with Bobby, and couldn't fathom what they were doing in a mansion's driveway. His father wasn't wearing his suit, so it wasn't an FBI impersonation._

_John told them to stay in the car until he was done and Dean wasn't about to protest; talking to rich, snobby people was the last he wanted to do. He turned up the radio and shuffled through the duffel bag at his feet before emerging with some paper and crayons. He unbuckled Sam and gave him the art tools, watching him out of the corner of his eye._

_His father had charged him with the protection and care-taking of his brother, Sam, and Dean wasn't about to fail him, either of them. His 7 year old brother said nothing about what their father was doing, and merely watched all that he did. Dean shook his head briefly. Sam had no idea what kind of job their father had, and so far the boy had been exempt from memories of the fire that took their mother, and the creature that caused it._

_Dean glanced up when their father returned to the truck and watched him as he walked around to Sam's side and opened the door. John tossed the coloring book and crayons into the duffel bag at Dean's feet and took a hold of Sam, hoisting him on his broad shoulder. "Dean, get the bag's please. You two will be staying here for awhile."_

_Dean instantly frowned. 'Here?' He wasn't sure what to make of this at the time. Ever since the fire, he'd only ever stayed in a motel. Dean did as he was commanded and grabbed the bags, the weight of each almost making him fall over. He heaved the bags up, determined to be strong like his dad and a good brother to Sam._

_John held the door open for him as Dean walked in, his head held high and his muscles strained. Inside the house was a tall, balding man and a little girl, probably no older than he was, he figured, standing beside him. They both wore welcoming smiles and the girl grinned slyly before winking at Dean, much to his pleasure and surprise._

"_Welcome to our home, Dean. And this must be little Samuel, eh? Though not so little anymore, I see."_

_The man took Sam from John's arms, ignoring the frowning, sad face of Sam._

"_I'm Eric Finnigan, and this is my daughter Lina."_

_Lina stepped forward and cocked her head slightly. "Hello!"_

_Dean mentally winced. The girl was clearly full of energy, and Dean was not relishing the idea of living with her. He smiled at her none the less, dipping his head in a southern gentleman's recognition of a lady. She giggled slightly and looked at her father with wide eyes. The man hid a smile behind his hand._

"_Well, we've got rooms set up for each of you and Lina, I'm sure, would be more than happy to show you around while your father and I talk. By all means, help yourself to whatever you need. Our maid, Lucy," The maid in question curtsied. "Will cater to your whims. Are you hungry, Sam?" Sam nodded and Eric put him down._

"_Lucy, why don't you fix the kids something to eat. Sam, you follow Lucy and she'll get you some food." Sam did as he was told, sending an uneasy look Dean's way. Dean shrugged and jerked his head towards the maid. Sam understood and smiled at her, taking her hand as he was led towards the kitchen._

_Dean shifted uncomfortably. The bags were heavy and he'd been standing there for well over 10 minutes. Lina smiled brightly and brushed past him, up the stairs. Dean followed her with a sigh, looking at the winding staircase with dread. He took a deep breath and heaved the bags up the stairs. By the time he reached the top, his legs were burning._

_His breath was ragged but he didn't stop to cough, pretending to breath normally. Lina opened a door and indicated it with her hand before stepping back. "This is your room."_

_Dean nodded and stepped inside. It was a type of room he wasn't used to having, to say the least, but he didn't mind. A queen size bed with a large armoire in the corner, and a TV facing the bed. H nodded gratefully and tossed his duffel bag on the bed. He followed her out side the room to the room next door._

"_This is your brother's room."_

_The bed was a twin size, and toys filled the room from every corner. He smiled slightly, sadly in a way. Maybe his brother would get a happy child hood memory after all. He set the duffel on Sam's four poster bed before turning around to face Lina. She smiled at him gently before turning to the room across from Dean's. _

"_And this, is my room." Dean stayed outside respectively and glanced inside. There was no pink to be found, no Barbie dolls on the floor, nothing girly at all. The walls were blood red, the furniture was dark cherry wood, and the only thing remotely childish was small stuffed bear lying against the pillows on the bed. 'This can not be her room…' He smiled and nodded before stepping outside of the doorway to let her exit._

"_I think you and I will get along just fine, Dean Winchester." He looked at her again, a frown adorning his features. Her large blue eyes looked at him with a strange sense of calm._

"_And, how do you know that?" Dean questioned, his tone playful though the question was a serious one._

"_Because," She said, taking his hand in hers. "We're meant to."_

_And, just like that, when she took his hand in hers, he knew that someday they would be together. Her calm seemed to seep into him, taking him over. He inhaled deeply and tried to push away any feelings that weren't of the familial type. She smiled at him, as if knowing what he was trying to do, and shook her head while saying "What will be, will be, Dean. You can't change fate." There was a deep silence, each looking at each other with trepidation before she smiled again, releasing his hand. "C'mon. The food should be ready by now, and then I can show you the rest of the house, okay?"_

_He felt almost…disappointed as she released his hand but shook himself out of it. No attachments. That's what his father burned into his brain. Don't form any attachments. It'll be easier to leave if you're not tied down._

* * *

_**Dean: Age 22**_

_**Dean shook his head slightly, laughing softly at the memories. They stayed with the Finnigan's for about a year, during which time Sam was able to have a fraction of a childhood, and he and Lina became good friends, though there was still something more.**_

_**When they left, Sam hadn't wanted to leave, and though Dean didn't admit it, he didn't either. But they did leave, and he could still remember Lina smiling at him from the driveway, waving and mouthing 'We'll meet again.' **_

_**And they met several times over the years, nothing really coming to fruition until his 21**__**st**__** birthday. Dean grinned when he thought about it. Now that was a birthday party he'd never forget. It was during that birthday that Dean and Lina took their maybe relationship to a whole new level. They had parted ways after that, and Lina didn't take it personally. As it turned out, her father used to be a hunter as well, so she understood.**_

_**Dean moved on but never, never, forgot. This was the first time he'd seen her in a long, long time.**_

* * *

**Dean: Age 24**

**Dean could hardly breathe. He was crying, and he knew it, and felt his heart give a painful tug when he heard her cry. He kissed his wife's hand, and took a deep breath. His wife was resting now. She'd had a hard journey and deserved to rest. He sat in the chair and just watched the whole process with a strange sense of calm, despite the fact that he was breathing heavily.**

"**Would like to hold her?"**

**Dean looked up, terrified for one fleeting instant, before managing a nod. The nurse smiled at him and repositioned his arms before place her in his arms.**

"**She's….so tiny." His voice cracked and the nurse smiled at him before leaving Dean to be with his child.**

**He looked at his daughter with awe and joy. She was small, and beautiful, and utterly perfect. She didn't cry when he held her, just watched him. For a moment he was unnerved. It was strange to see someone looking at you with your own eyes. She had a small tuft of blonde hair already, and Dean's hazel eyes with her mother's eye shape.**

**They merely watched each other for a little while before she boldly stretched out her arm and her hand stroke his face. She gurgled happily when he offered her a finger with which to curl her tiny fist around and giggled. Right then and there Dean felt his heart melt for the second time in his life.**

"**Avery," he whispered "My baby girl..."**

* * *

**Dean: Age 26**

Dean was manic; insane with grief and anger. He took a swig off of his Vodka bottle before continuing to sharpen his sword. He'd gotten it for his birthday from Lina, when he was 18. His heart lurched and he took another swig off of the bottle. This was going to require a lot of alcohol. The sword was made of solid iron, not the best metal to use anymore but the only that could be used to harm a being of a Fae race.

He slid the sword back into its sheath, and strapped it around his waist. A .45 caliber pistol tucked into his back pocket, he strode out the door with the bottle in his other hand. He went down to the river bottoms and carefully sliced his wrist, letting the blood drip onto the angel food cake he bought in the store and threw it into the water while quickly tying a scrap of cloth over his bleeding wrist to staunch the wound.

"You, summoned me human?" He spun slightly seeing an attractive man with glowing mismatched eyes. Dean strode over to the man and swiftly lunged, pinning the man against the tree with his iron sword against the creature's throat.

"Yeah, I summoned you. Before I gut you like the bottom feeder you are, I want to know something; I want to know why you killed my wife."

The creature did not smile. In fact, there was almost a feeling of regret in his eyes and demeanor. "It was not my decision, Dean Winchester. I did only as I was ordered."

"As you were ordered? And who ordered you to kill my wife, hm? I want a name, an address, _something_ for me to go on. IF I'm going to go on a hunt, I need at least a little information on what I'm hunting."

The creature blinked several times, though it seemed a less than human action at this particular moment. "I am not permitted to say who, or what, gave me the order."

Dean snarled and slammed the creature against the tree trunk once more. "You aren't permitted? Really, well that is interesting isn't it? Tell you what, tell me what you are _permitted_ to tell me, or do what you are _permitted_ to do, and I _might_ let you live."

The creature choked as the iron sword came to rest against his throat. Steam began to rise from the contact of the sword and bare skin. A sickening smell filled the air; burning flesh. The creature began to struggle violently, unable to escape Dean's iron clad grip.

"Alright. I'll…tell…you!"

The sword was removed from his bare throat and the creature gasped, struggling to get air into his now near exposed lungs. Dean kept him pinned to the tree as he stared at the creature. "Start talking. And, while you're at it, tell me where my daughter is."

The creature caught his breath and began to speak. "I am not permitted to tell you anything. But, wait!" The creature spat out as Dean began to lift the iron sword in his right hand.

"I can take you to the person who gave me the order, to the person who ordered the death of your wife."

Dean smiled through clenched teeth. "Even better. Let's start. Get walking fairy boy."

The kelpy nodded and raised his hands on either side of his body, showing he meant no harm. Dean released him and gestured with his sword to get walking.

* * *

The vision faded out and Dean slowly rose from unconsciousness, he could hear people talking around him, whispering. He bit back a sob, the memories still fresh in his mind, and opted to lay there in his misery, unable to move, unable think, unable to care.


	4. Death and Patriotism

A/N: Hello everyone! I had taken the time to re-write and repost this story, and it took much longer than I expected to get the other chapters rewritten and edited. Here is chapter 4, which is going to be the shortest chapter of this story because I had to cut about 4 pages in the rewrite.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I only own original characters, like Sammi and Carson and Megan.

* * *

Chapter 4: Death and Patriotism

"_A man who won't die for something is not fit to live"- Martin Luther King, Jr._

Dean laid on the bed, the tears eventually slowing to a halt. Now that the sadness had passed, and his head no longer felt like it someone had taken a mallet to it, the anger came forth. He felt his blood literally begin to boil. He'd pulled them out of Heaven. Pulled them back to this living hell, where suffering, torment, and sacrifice were daily occurrences.

He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he could feel the anger ready to burst. He felt like strangling Castiel, though he wasn't absolutely certain that Castiel was the one who pulled them out. His sat up quickly, making his head rush slightly, before turning, wild eyed and mussed haired, to the girls.

"You girls want some pie? 'Cause I want some pie." And, unable to look at his parents or Castiel, without waiting for a reply, stalked out. He heard Carson and Whitney follow them, Sammi saying nothing but following him with measured steps. He mused to himself that she didn't even know _why_ he was upset, only that he was, and sighed suddenly. If he was going to explain things to them, what the creature was, what the situation was, then he'd better have something to swallow to suffocate the bitterness.

Sammi had, by now, regained the feeling in her legs and watched Dean out of the corner of her eye. He was troubled. Seeing those people there had upset him for some reason. She decided not to push him on it though; she sensed that he would tell her if he wanted to.

As they arrived at a diner, cleverly named "Luke's Diner", Dean pulled into the nearest parking spot and simply sat, staring out the windshield. After a few moments, he snapped out of it and gave Sammi a weak smile, his eyes showing his true emotions.

Dean sat next to Sammi in the diner, while Carson and Whitney took a seat across from them. Dean had, thus far, covered up his true state of upset. He had smiled cheekily at the pretty waitress, made a few wisecracks about the diner and it's owner, and ordered himself some pie.

Sammi ordered a burger per Dean's request, who insisted that she needed to eat. Carson and Whitney ordered nothing, still processing what had occurred only a few hours before. The meal was enjoyed in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, Carson and Whitney playing hangman on a napkin as their companions ate.

As he finished is first piece of pie, Dean rested his folded hands on the table, taking a few deep breaths. The girls looked up at him, seeming to sense that he was about to explain. Sammi had long since finished her burger, and was now shifting restlessly in her seat.

Dean smiled at them before beginning, searching for a way to phrase what needed to be said. "Tonight, you experienced something that most people don't believe exist. You were pulled, forcibly if not painfully, into a whole new world, one that exists side by side to the one you were in before."

The girls remained silent, listening with an unquestionable amount of interest.

"There are things in this new world that are considered fantastical, false, in the world that you lived in before. What happened tonight, what was supposed to happen tonight, is called 'Tithing'. It's an ancient rite used by the Fae to control the courts; Seelie and Unseelie. It's where the blood of a human, an innocent, is spilt to tie the Faeries into submission. The creature that lured you was a Kelpie, a hand servant to the ruling party of Seelie court."

Dean paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. "In this world that is mine, and now yours, creatures of nightmares and fairytales are commonplace and ever present. Any creature you could possibly imagine, exists. I'm a hunter of those creatures, well, the bad ones anyway. My brother, Sam, and I travel around the country taking on any case that either seems suspicious, or is asked of us," He paused a moment, letting it sink in.

"Sam is currently in Washington, looking in on a vampire nest. I stayed here to work on the case concerning your," He turned to acknowledge Sammi, "cousin and other murders that I thought could be related. The victims, thus far, seemingly had nothing in common, nothing that I could trace except your occupation."

"And then, I discovered the connection; your coach. Thought not so much _your_ coach, but your cousin's. Her name, I believe, is Anne Laselle?" He turned to Sammi for confirmation, beginning again only once Sammi had confirmed that she was the coach.

"Anne advised you when you first left high school, right?"

Sammi nodded. "Yeah. She had helped my cousin kick her career off and my parents thought that she could do the same for mine."

Dean nodded. "Well, and this is going to sound terrible, but, it would seem that Anne made a deal with one of the fae; her swimmers would be given extraordinary talent and abilities, so that Anne could be recognized. The deal the creature made was that, when Anne had achieved her fame, the creature would take what had made her famous. Anne assumed that the creature would take back her star's talent and abilities, but the creature took the people themselves. She never even realized what she'd done until her swimmers began showing up dead, drowned."

"After she realized what was happening, she sought the creature out and demanded to know why it was killing her swimmers. She was horrified to hear it's reply, that their lives were necessary and that they were only humans. Of course, it dawned on her that the creature would eventually take her own daughter, who she had coached. She bartered with the creature before coming to a deal; the creature would take back her fame and fortune, and let her daughter live. As it turned out, the creature never said anything about the other swimmers."

Sammi snorted then, throwing her napkin somewhat angrily on her empty plate. "Yeah, that sounds like Anne alright. Never thinking things through."

Carson looked between Sammi and Dean for a moment, making sure that neither were about to speak. "So, I have a question, well, kind of. I thought that, for the tithing thing, you only needed one human sacrifice, at least that's how folklore tells it, so why are there so many victims?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "…You know fairy folklore?"

Carson flushed before saying "…I was in middle school. It was phase, and I grew out of it."

Dean held up his hands, smiling for real this time. He paused for a moment, considering what she'd said, before continuing "Well, actually," He took a drink of his soda, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Actually," A different, new voice continued. "The more sacrifices there are, the more powerful the bond is. I doubt that that was the kelpy's intention though, it was probably just a matter of convenience."

As all head at their table turned to look at the person speak, Carson and Sammie jumped up out of the booth. Sammi stumbled slightly, crawling over Dean to get out before getting back on her feet and joining Carson in the group hug. Dean, confused, looked to Whitney who merely shrugged her shoulders and gave him a half-smile.

Carson and Sammi were still glomping the unknown person when Dean happened to look behind the girly-girl scene in front of him. There, shifting nervously from foot to foot, was Chuck, the Prophet. Dean raised his eyebrows "What the hell are_ you_ doing here? I thought that the angels were keeping you tight under wraps."

Chuck shrugged. "They were. After Uriel…died, things became a little hectic. And then, when your lives intertwined with theirs," Chuck gestured towards Sammi and Carson, giving Whitney a nod. "Meg," The girl in the center of the group hug broke away from them to glare at him. "Er, Megan that is, found me. Turns out that, uh, she's, well she's a prophet too. She keeps tabs on Sammi, Carson, Whitney and a few others the same way that I received predictions about you and Sam."

"When your paths crossed, so did ours. She managed to sneak me out, away from what she calls her "angel radar". She can sense them, feel their presence when they're near."

Dean nodded, impressed before falling silent and ordering some coffee and extra chairs. He had lost himself in thought for awhile before being unable to ignore the gossiping girls anymore.

"…and oh my god, you would not _believe_ what Evan's been doing lately!" At this, both Sammi and Carson choked on their drinks and shared understanding looks whilst laughing. Megan frowned, puzzled as to how that could have been funny. A few moments passed before she realized what she'd said.

"Oh my god, no! I didn't mean it that way and you _know_ it!" The girls managed to maintain their laughter to a quiet giggle for a moment before sharing a look and cracking up again. Megan stuttered out words, trying to form a full sentence in her defense and being unable. Dean even grinned, enjoying the awkward protests and mortification. For a group of girls, they didn't seem so bad.

As they regained control of their laughter, Sammi crawled over Dean once more, this time not tripping, and Carson sat in her previous seat. Megan sat down and pouted for a moment before shaking her head. "You guys haven't changed one bit since high school."

Sammi and Carson looked at each other before looking at Megan and saying simultaneously "Nope!" each wearing a matching cheesy grin.

Carson cocked her head to the side before raising an eyebrow. "So, you're a prophet? Huh. Didn't see _that_ coming." A smirk adorned her face, the sarcasm in her voice heavy, a look of smug victory on her face

Sammi nodded her head in agreement before stopping, looking at Megan with suspicion. "So, just how long have you been keeping tabs on us anyway?"

"Well, since high school actually. At first, I just thought that they were weird dreams but, after some of the stuff started coming true… I guess I had a lot of dreams about you guys back then and didn't realize what they were."

Carson bit her lip and Sammi shook her head, her shoulder's shaking from keeping the laughter in. Dean coughed politely, smiling into his napkin. Whitney snorted, resisting the urge to say something. Megan sat there, head cocked, with what Carson had dubbed the "Megan-look", before the innuendo dawned on her. Her mouth popped open, horrified and shaking her head violently.

"_Why?!_ Why do you guys do that? Twist everything I say and make it all…" She flapped her hand at them.

Carson said "Well, you know, technically…" She trailed off as Sammi picked it up "…we didn't _say_ anything."

Megan huffed. "And that! What's with the sentence finishing? I thought you guys stopped that in our junior year 'cause it got too creepy!"

They shrugged simultaneously, smiling. Megan shook her head, eyes rolling. "In any event," her expression turned serious "we have to talk." She looked to Chuck as he nodded and stepped forward, snagging a couple of chairs so they could sit.

* * *

In Washington, Sam was in a bar trying to get some information out of the bartender, who was being less than helpful. He'd had little to no luck with the vampire case at all. It almost seemed like there _wasn't_ a case, but that was impossible, right? Dean had been sure that there was a case there.

Sam's phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID before going outside to get away from the hustle and bustle in the bar. "Hello,"

"Sam," Ruby spoke quickly, out of breath. "You have to get out of Seattle. Now. They know you're there and their coming for you."

"Wait, who's coming for me?"

"I don't have time to explain Sam, you need to leave now. Their high level demons, very powerful, stronger than Lilith, and they've got quite a grudge against you. You need to leave immediately."

Sam swallowed, glancing around. "OK. I'll leave now and call you later."

"Don't bother. Just head back to Minnesota and meet up with Dean, I'll meet you there."

Sam hung up the phone and headed out with a sigh, determined to ask Dean about the case when he arrived.


	5. Someone to Love

A/n: Here's chapter 5! Please review/leave constructive criticism. A reminder to all, this ignores season 5 completely. This story takes place sometime in season 4, probably early season 4.

Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural, so GET OVER IT ALREADY!

* * *

Chapter 5: Someone to Love

"_They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for."-Tom Bodett _

Dean drove back to the motel silently, pondering about all that had been said and done in the past two days. Carson and Whitney had opted to ride back with Megan and Chuck, undoubtedly in order to avoid the upcoming conflict at the motel. Even if they hadn't, they would need to get their own rooms. Dean mentally snorted; his original party of 2 became 7, though Sam was still in Seattle. He felt strangely at ease with Sammi, comfortable with her presence, and relieved that her friends had opted out on the ride back. The other girl, Whitney, was unnerving, in a way. Too quiet, and Sammi had seemed rather bothered by it too. Carson was a different story.

She wasn't quiet, at least not as quiet as the other girl, but he got that feeling that though she was saying one thing, and meant it, she was thinking something completely different. She was observant, watching with calculating, somewhat cold eyes. Sammi and Whitney were at ease with her, clearly used to the girls behavior, but Dean was having a hard time adjusting. She was hard to read, even though she smiled and chatted amiably. They pulled up into the hotel parking lot, and Dean parked on the far end before killing the engine, staring at his hotel room door with apprehension.

Sammi waited in the car with him, keeping one eye for Carson or Megan to signal her that they had room keys. As they exited the office, they waved Sammi over enthusiastically. She paused a moment as she was getting out of the car, sparing a look at Dean, who was still sitting and making no motion to get up or leave any time soon. She stood uncertainly for a moment, wondering if she should leave him likes this, when he turned his head to look at her.

His eyes were full of unspoken sorrow, of troubles that he'd faced and conquered, of battles that he'd lost, the demons he had yet to face, and all joy and happiness he'd ever experienced. It looked as though his life was flashing before his eyes. Sammi smiled uncertainly, wondering if she should stay. He waved her towards the girls with a grimace like smile and slowly got out of the car, shutting the door gently.

Sammi and the girls entered their room, Carson and Megan glancing at each other in silent understanding as Sammi paced. She was normally calm, but whatever had Dean so spooked had her on edge. Carson left with Megan a few moments after arriving and realizing that the hotel only had crap coffee, and went out to get Starbucks for the entire gang.

Dean stood outside the door for a few moments, one hand on the door knob, the other clenched into a tight fist. With his mouth set into a grim line, he unlocked and opened the door in one fluid motion, this time prepared for what lay inside. His face was impassive, showing no signs of internal or external conflict. John and Mary were sitting side by side on the bed, talking. Castiel was seemingly gone, for the moment.

They looked up at him, their eyes shining with pride and another emotion that Dean couldn't decipher; it was all too muddled. He closed the door behind him and stood inside the entryway for a moment, feeling the awkwardness of the room almost physically. Mary stood then, a watery smile on her face, and embraced him tightly.

"It's been so long, son." She was crying and he embraced her gently, almost like he was afraid that she would disappear if he tried to touch her.

"I've been keeping tabs on you and your brother, you know? Trying to look out for you and guide you the best I could, from where I was. I... well I didn't have a whole lot of influence up there."

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding; one of his worst fears had been proved false. Given the circumstances of her death, he'd been afraid that she'd gone to hell. Mary watched her son's face change instantly, his emotions breaking through the facade he'd put on. He looked worn and haggard, her eldest boy. He had scars, visible and ones that weren't but she knew existed. This life had taken it's toll on him.

The break through didn't last longer than a few seconds, and when she released him from her embrace the mask was back in place. She rejoined her husband on the bed, waiting for him to speak because she knew that if she tried, she would likely burst into tears.

John was well aware of the state of his wife's emotions, it was an awareness that he'd developed long before they were married. He stood then, looking at Dean with something akin to sadness. His boy was tired, more tired then a man at his age should be, and he knew that that was his fault. He'd always pushed Dean to be the best, pushed him to hunt, to look after his little brother no matter what.

Look where that got him. Making deals with demons, getting sent to hell to be tortured and become the torturer. John knew that it was the cause for Dean's inner turmoil, the fact that he'd willingly tortured other people in the same virtual boat as him. Dean had been taught well, he observed. His face and eyes were calm, bland, showing no emotion. But he knew better than that, Castiel had filled him in on all that had gone on in the last couple of years.

His eldest son deserved to rest, and end to this way of life. When he was 22, Dean disappeared. He and Dean had gotten into an ugly fight, fought with words and fists. He told Dean that he wasn't good enough, that he may as well turn-tail then instead of later when it mattered. Dean had argued back, and in a fit of drunken rage John threw him into a wall. Dean, having had enough bullshit, stood up and walked out the door without saying a word. He wouldn't hear from Dean for another 5 years, until he showed up at Bobby's looking like he got into a fight with a wood chipper and lost.

He never asked what happened during those five years, seeing his son in the state he had been in was more than enough, and when Dean began hunting again, this time with a vigor even he couldn't rival, he wasn't about to complain. Dean was angry, and he took whatever he was pissed at from those 5 years and he took it out on whatever he could get his hands on.

John stood then, clasping Dean's shoulder in greeting, smiling sadly at the desolate, knowing look in Dean's eyes. "I know you'll be wanting some answers, but Castiel asked us to wait until he returned,"

Dean snorted. "He would... He'd better hurry cause I've had a rough night and all I want to do is sleep. With that being said, Dean slid off his jacket and flopped face down on the bed. "Tell me when he gets here, okay?" He didn't mean to be so abrupt with them, but he was tired and worn out, physically and emotionally, and he didn't know how much more he could take before he went insane.

* * *

Carson and Megan drove in a companionable silence for a time. It was unlike both of them. Each had fond memories of taking road trips, and talking about the latest tv crush they had, the shows that they actually watched in common, but now it was silent. Megan glanced over at Carson continually, biting her lip upon occasion, wondering if she should bring it up.

Carson smiled sadly, knowing Megan was looking at her. She hated it, sometimes; being able to feel people's eyes on you without looking at them. She was gifted, in some ways, and cursed in others. She had powers derived from ancient celtic magic, nothing very strong. She certainly wasn't about to go Morgan Le Fae on anyone's ass anytime soon, but part of her gift was seeing her own fate.

She'd known her destiny long ago, long before Dean met Sammi, and long before Megan came to know her destiny. She knew that Megan must be aware by now. It was probably why she was watching Carson out of the corner of her eye so often.

"Yes, Megan?" Might as well clear the air.

Megan was startled, smiling on a reflex by remembering how often Carson used to do that when they were in high school. "Do you know?" She had to ask, had to know if Carson knew what was coming.

"...Yes." Carson let out a heavy sigh, watching as the lightning danced in the clouds, as the sky began to cry.

Megan's lips quivered slightly, her eyes saddened. "How long have you known?"

"Longer than I've known you, much longer."

"Hmm. I wish we could change it, I really do..." Megan's voice, almost a whisper, cracked.

"Yeah...me too. But what will be, will be. There's nothing we can do to change that so we might as well get used to the idea, and besides, I'll be back." Carson smiled sadly at Megan. "I'll just look a little different."

The corner of Megan's mouth twitched, wanting to grin. Even now, Carson was trying to be funny. "But still...Can't we just, have you, you know, not be there?"

Carson shook her head. "No, I have to be there. They can't do what needs to be done without me, you know."

"Well, what about someone else? We could find someone else!"

Carson looked at Megan with tired, yet amused, eyes. Megan always did toe the line between naive and hopeful. "Would you be able to ask them to do it? Look right into their eyes and ask them?"

Megan paused before shaking her head. "No, I suppose not."

Carson sighed and shifted in her seat. "What will be, will be. We can't change that."

"Yeah, I know..."

* * *

Dean was unable to sleep; Sam should have been at the motel by now. His parents were lying in the other bed, talking quietly and watching tv. He didn't want to talk to them, was afraid to get attached again. Of course, you can never ever really get over the death of your parents; you'll always have moments when you feel sad. But Dean was more worried that, when Castiel returned them to Heaven, he would have to go through the grieving process all over again. And Sam! Sam didn't really have any memories of their mother before, so what would he do now that she was back? Dean sat up suddenly, his head pounding from unanswered questions.

John looked up to see Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. Mary moved to go to him but John held her back, shaking his head. Dean had gotten the worst of it, in this life. He was the one that got sent to hell, the one who was to be God's chosen one. Usually, in life, it's the choices we make that determine who we are, that determine how we live our lives, but Dean never really had a choice. He had responsibilities. He was his father's wingman on hunts, Sam's steadfast protector. He was never given the choice to _have_ a choice.

The couple looked at each other for a moment, glancing at their son uneasily. Dean rubbed his face for a moment before sighing and standing. He stretched his arms and back as best he could, cracking his neck. He didn't have to turn around to know that his parents were watching him; he could feel their eyes on the back of his neck. He moved silently towards the door, pretending that he didn't know they were awake. He closed it gently, taking a deep breath as the cold air swept around him.

He could see his breath in the chilly air, and Dean took comfort in it, as he so often had. Normally, you can't see the air, the wind. You know it's there, but you can't ever really see it. But when the air in the outside turns cold, while the air inside is warm, it can be seen. He felt the wind brush past him suddenly, seemingly to focus on one point behind him. He didn't bother to turn around, or flinch. He'd grown rather accustomed to Castiel's presence.

"Good evening, Dean."

"Evening, Cas. How goes the great spirit in the sky?"

Castiel looked him sideways, the way he always did when Dean was about to get lectured about his mission. He probably would have, had Sam's Laguna not pulled into the driveway.

Dean cocked his head, frowning for a moment before allowing his face to relax into a shit-eating grin as his brother stepped out of the car. If Dean himself wasn't so manly, he probably would've tackled Sam the moment he stepped out of the car, but being that he had an image to keep and all, he settled for giving him a one-armed man-hug.

They stood in silence for a moment, trying to get used to one another's presence. A door opened down the hall and Dean watched as a freshly dressed Sammi exited the girls' room. They smiled when they saw each other, something that didn't go unnoticed by Sam. Sammi came to stand next to Dean, raising an eyebrow when she saw Sam. Looking back and forth between Dean and Sam, who had an apprehensive look on his face, she sighed and leaned against Dean's Impala before saying "It's too early for this. We have to deal with this when it's not even midnight?"

Dean chuckled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. They'd gotten to the motel around 10 p.m., went straight to bed and were now up by midnight- that's not a whole lot of sleep for the night. Sam chatted with the girl amicably, and Dean would occasionally toss in a smart remark or short tale to embarrass his little brother, but his attention was centered on Sammi, who seemed to be rather focused on Dean.

Sammi would smile and occasionally make a comical facial expression, but as the minutes flew by her true feelings were pushed to the surface. She was pacing now, here eyes continually glancing towards the motel driveway and back to the highway itself, watching each car as it exited.

"Something wrong, Sammi?" She turned to look at him, trying to hold back the concern in her eyes.

"Carson and Megan left about an hour, hour and a half ago to get some coffee from a Starbucks just a few exits back from the highway standpoint. They should've been back long before now, and what with the kelpy none too happy with my current state of life..."

She trailed off, her eyes going once more to the driveway.

Dean frowned. Sammi was right; the starbucks was only 10 minutes away, and though leaving with a pissed off fae on their heels probably wasn't such a good idea, they should've been back by now. His lips pressed together in a thin line, his arm slid over Sammi's shoulders and he hugged her gently for a measure of comfort, kissing her forehead. "It'll be alright, Sammi. We'll find 'em." Sammi closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax into his side. She was just too tired to care anymore.

She straightened as she saw Carson's car, which her brother had grudgingly driven over about an hour beforehand, pull into the driveway. As it pulled into the parking space next to Dean's, Sammi frowned as she realized that Megan was the one driving. That wasn't right. Carson didn't let anyone drive her car, not for any reason. As Megan stepped out of the car, her face lit up as she saw Sammi and the others circled in the parking lot.

"Hey! I come bearing coffee!"

Sammi smiled distractedly and looked over Megan's shoulder, peering into the windows of the back seat. "Hey, uh, Megan?"

Megan turned towards her "Hm?"

"Where's Carson?"

Megan frowned slightly before cocking her head to one side. "Who?"

* * *

Carson walked at a brisk pace, a difficult task with her legs being bound by heavy chains on her ankles.

"She was not my intended offering, but she'll do... The blood of a chosen spilled on the tithe will surely bring good fortune to us in these next years." The kelpy addressed a fae in armor, the knight surveyed her before nodding and passing a pouch of gold to the creature.

The knight turned towards her then, circling her. Carson, though tired, refused to buckle under his gaze. "You're not going to try to run?"

Carson shook her head. The knight cocked his head to the side, his black lack-luster eyes looking at her with cold curiosity. "Why?"

"I've been preparing for this day for a very long time, Sir Knight," Carson said softly. "I knew when I helped rescue my friend from your hunting dog," she spat the last word out, glaring at the kelpy. "that my time was near. I've accepted my fate, but I would request a favor of you, as is my right as the chosen sacrifice for the tithe."

The knights lips quirked in amusement. "So, you know our laws. That's interesting. Alright girl, what would you wish of me?" He finished his sentence with a flourished, mocking bow.

"My last wish of my captor, Sir Cebhain of the Seelie court, as is granted to me by Seelie laws, is that you return the child, Avery Alexandra Winchester into the care of her father, Dean Winchester. Avery Winchester, no changeling brat sent to take her place, and she _must_ be handed to her father in person so that he may take charge of her. After releasing her to her father, she and all of her descendants hereafter are to be free from all fae influence. That is my wish."

By the time she was done, the Knight was barely containing his fury. By fae law, her wish must be granted. He nodded to his servants, indicating that they were to do as she wished. "You will have cost me dearly with that wish, child. I will enjoy slitting your throat when the time comes." He walked away, her servants tried coaxing her to her rooms.

As he walked away, Carson whispered. "Funny. I could say the exact same thing."


	6. Crisis

A/n: Ok! Here is chapter 6, the longest so far (I think) and the most recently written/edited. Enjoy and please remember to Review! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Only the plot and a few choice characters.

* * *

Chapter 6: Crisis

"_Any idiot can face a crisis- its day to day living that wears us out."-Anton Chekov_

Carson lay on the four poster bed, staring at the ceiling. She was musing to herself how the hell she wound up there in the first place, trying to figure out what in sam hell had possessed her to run _towards_ her imminent death, instead of away from it. It took her a few moments reflecting on that to figure out that friendship had gotten her to where she was. Well, friendship and a hero-complex. Her lips twitched slightly upwards as her life slowly rolled before her eyes- it wasn't at all flashing, like the movies or books portray. It was slow, deliberate, each memory savored to the very last second.

She remembered chasing Megan with the balloon. She remembered teasing and torturing Sammi with the story she had written her. She remembered talking to Maddie about the books they loved- and how many characters were clearly gay or in favor of incest. She remembered exchanging conversations and theories about Gilmore Girls with Zack. She remembered teasing Evan in the band room. She remembered it all. The good, the bad, the indifferent. She remembered her first middle school dance, and how she'd wound up tripping on her floor-length prom dress to the electric slide.

Carson smiled then, deciding that fear was a natural thing to experience when your head's about to go to the guillotine, figuratively speaking of course. A guillotine would have been much less painless, and much faster than what the sadistic and vengeful fae Knight had in mind. Not that he was to be completely blamed, it _was_ after all in his nature, but there were still some feelings of regret for what she was about to do.

Not the dying part- there was no regret about that particular aspect, well, no more than could be expected. She had long since given up her dreams of five kids, a career as a famous writer, living to a ripe old age to spoil her grandkids rotten. All of that she had come to terms with.

But the very idea of killing someone-that made her sick. No matter how much she convinced herself that he probably deserved it, that he was going to do the same to her, it still made her insides twist. Taking the life of anything, human or otherwise, would weigh on her soul, and karma, for a very long time.

She slipped off the bed and put on her dress, musing that if she was going to die she should at least be allowed to wear her own clothes. The shirt with David Bowie as the Goblin King would have been nice right about now, if only to make one last mocking remark about them before her death, and even after it.

They had refused her request, giving her a medieval style gown instead. With a sigh she put on the petticoat and frocks, slipping the navy blue gown over head with not too much difficulty, fixing her bell-shaped sleeves. She laced up the front of her corset and reluctantly turned around so that the hand-maid could do the back.

She hissed slightly, knowing all too well that the maid was purposely being vicious. Carson glared at the maid over her shoulder, causing the maid to cringe slightly before returning to her work, this time somewhat gentler. Carson resisted the urge to smirk. Sometimes, all you had to do to fool someone was to act indifferent. She acted like she _wasn't_ being sent to her death, like she was someone of importance and someone to be feared.

She mused to herself that some times, it really was all too easy. The maid was obviously as dim as they came, and Carson would have been willing to be that she could have either convinced the maid to let her go, or escaped on her own. But that would serve no purpose whatsoever. The events she had forseen must not come to pass at all costs.

Carson considered herself to be a casualty of war, not the first and certainly not the last, but she hoped that with her altering the events that were supposed to pass this night, those numbers would dwindle significantly. This entire situation had put the Earth in a crisis. It would be one thing if this crisis only affected certain people, because anyone can handle a crisis, but to put the Earth itself into a state of destruction was beyond comprehension.

She understood that this was _not_ the way she was supposed to die. Carson knew that Megan had been referring to something else when they spoke in the car, but she could not bring herself to tell Megan the truth. It was too dangerous.

Carson had forseen the world fall to chaos. The Angels and Demons would forever be at war, each trying to tip the scale in their own favor. Both were on opposite sides of the war, and neither was on the humans' side. Neither cared what happened to the humans who inhabited the Earth. According to those selfish bastards, the Earth was their playground, and every human their pawn. Well. Carson happened to disagree. She knew that Dean had rejected the angel's offer to take a side, she had expected him to.

What the angels didn't understand was that Dean, while driven by the desire for vengeance for his family, his strongest desire, the thing that gave him the strength to hunt, came from the desire to protect. They thought that they could manipulate him into doing what they wanted, willingly being an angel's vessel for however long was necessary. They hadn't counted on him seeing right through them. They hadn't counted on his desire to protect extending to all humans, not just those that he loved and cared about. Stupid bastards.

Carson allowed herself to smile and chuckle for a moment, realizing that this was probably the last time she'd be able to do so. She sighed then, tilting her head back in an effort to fight back the tears. A loud knock fell heavy on the oaken door, the sound resounding in the chamber walls. The maid opened the door, her head and eyes downcast. Cebhain entered, his midnight blue cloak dusting the ground.

Carson turned fully to look at him, taking in his appearance. He was dressed as though he were going to a ball, not as though he was about sacrifice a girl to the altar. His tunic was a pale cream, contrasting the darkness of his cloak. She mused to herself how ironic it was, that they were dressed to match. Appropriate, in more ways than the Knight knew.

She fixated a spot on his chest, her mind turning the beautiful cream into a dark red stain that began to stretch from the first fixated point, to the rest of his ensemble altogether. His sneering laughing brought her back to reality, and she looked into his eyes, one eyebrow arched. He held a hand out to her mockingly "It's time." Carson accepted the hand, her face betraying no emotion, though her mind whispered that it most certainly was. She looped her arm through his, and tried to ignore the imaginary red her mind conjured on his sleeve.

Sammi looked at Megan incredulously, disbelieving what she had heard. "Wh-what do you mean _who_? Carson! As in the quirky, obsessive, over-bearing motherly girl we've been hanging out with since our sophomore year of high school!"

Megan frowned and cocked her head the side. "I don't remember her at all. Are you sure you aren't thinking of someone else? Geez, Sammi, I thought _I_ was the one with memory problems."

Sammi went pale faced and stumbled backwards slightly, turning to Dean with barely kept panic in her eyes. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, trying to keep herself grounded. Dean's arm slipped around her waist and held her tightly, keeping her from falling to the ground. With a more calm air, Dean turned towards Megan. "Whose car are you driving, then?"

Megan turned to look at the car behind, surprised showing in her eyes as she cocked her head to the side. "Mine. Who else would belong to?"

Dean nodded then, he smiled slightly and gently released Sammi, making sure she was stable before he let go. He approached Megan and placed a hand on her shoulder before applying pressure to the area just below her collar bone. She hissed in pain and jerked away before frowning in confusion. She pulled down her shirt a little bit to reveal a black rune that had been branded into her skin.

Sam's phone rang and he looked at it abstractly, trying to focus on what was going on around him. It was Ruby. He answered the phone, giving Dean a heads up, before walking off towards the other end of the parking lot. Sammi frowned at the little black rune, perplexed as to what that had to do with anything. Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Sammi looked at him with one eyebrow raised, her head leaning forward with a wild eagerness in her eyes as if to say 'WELL...?'

"She was Taken and Returned. More likely as not, they took both of them but since Carson was the only one they wanted, they erased Megan's memory so she wouldn't interfere with whatever they have planned."

"But the kelpy came after me! I thought it was me they were after!"

"They were, but since you've pretty much been staying with me they can't get to you, and Carson was an easier target."

She looked at him dryly for a moment. "Carson? You're seriously calling Carson an easy target?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe there's something special about her."

Sammi shook her head. "Even if she was, Megan is the one who can see the future! Wouldn't that make her a more likely target?"

Dean frowned a moment, thinking it over. He closed his eyes for a moment, and gave a dry, choked back chuckle. "Of the two, who would you say has a bigger hero-complex? Who's the better deal-maker?"

Sammi's face scrunched up to look at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean didn't answer her. He went on with his theory, disregarding her question completely. "Who would be the first to realize that it's a hopeless situation and start bargaining?"

Sammi shrugged in exasperation "I don't know! They're both ridiculously stubborn!"

Dean looked at her pointedly. "If you had to bet on one of them with your life, who would you bet on?"

"Carson, I guess. Megan would probably just keep fighting just because they were pissing her off and she knew she had no hope of winning the situation."

Dean shifted, stretching and cracking his neck. "There's your answer then."

Sammi looked at him in confusion. "What?"

"They probably came for Megan, knowing that she's a seer and would be considered worthy enough for their ceremony. But, Carson is with her and that throws a monkey wrench in their carefully laid out plans. They ambush them, and Megan keeps fighting because it's in her nature. Carson realizes that it's a lost cause and brokers a deal with them; she'll go quietly with them if they leave Megan alone. They, by now having felt the full fury and fight of Megan's wrath, are probably more than willing to take the deal so there won't be any fuss later. The fae are pretty big on decorum and things going smoothly."

Sammi looked at him with point blank irritation. He looked rather proud of himself for figuring it out but said "What?" when she gave him a dry look.

"That's great, except that doesn't change the fact that Carson is in some freaky subculture's clutches who are doing God knows what to her and we don't know how to save her!" She screeched the last part, wringing her hands and turning away to pace the distance between the two cars.

Megan frowned, catching the gist of the conversation. "Wait, some assholes kidnapped one of our best friends, and then erased my memories?"

Dean nodded briefly, deciding not to correct on some finer details, mostly because he was slightly intimidated by her.

"That really pisses me off! We have to save her!"

Sammi turned to look at her. "You remember Carson?" Her face filling with hope.

Megan looked sheepish. "No, but that's beside the point! It's the principle of things! They screwed with our friend, apparently, and screwed with my memory, as if it wasn't bad enough! Oh, they'll pay!"

Sammi huffed and held her head in her hands, not sure whether to laugh or cry. She opted for getting angry instead. "Hey! EMO KID WITH THE BAD HAIR CUT! GET OFF THE GODDAMN PHONE AND COME OVER HERE TO HELP US FIND MY FRIEND!"

Sam jumped, raising an eyebrow at her before holding up 5 fingers to gesture '5 more minutes.'

Sammi growled and huffed, going back to pacing as Megan and Dean shared a look and inched away from the volatile 18 year old.

Sam stalked away from the group even further, preventing others from eavesdropping. "Sorry Ruby. We've kind of got a situation here. Now, what were you saying?"

She started speaking but was drowned out by Sammi having another conniption fit.

"What? Ruby, could you say it again? Dean's new girl is having a meltdown."

"I'M PREGNANT!"

Sam stopped in his tracks. "No, seriously Ruby, you have my undivided attention, I swear."

"Sam, I'm pregnant. I'm not kidding."

"But, you're a demon."

"Oh, boy, give this one a prize! Yes, Sam, I'm a pregnant demon."

"But, you're demon!"

"Oh for hell's sake, get over it already! I'm inhabiting a living body Sam, a living female body! Is that so hard to grasp?"

"But you're a demon! And.... and....and we only did it twice!"

"Well, you know what they say, once is all it takes and we did it twice which doubles our chances!"

"But..." Sam took several deep breaths. "What are we going to do?"

"Get rid of it. I just though you should know for future reference."

"Get rid of it? It's a kid! We can't get rid of it. And even if it is half demon nature versus nurture, right? I'll raise it to be good."

"Oh, Dean will take that really well! Oh, hey bro, by the way, I kind of sort of knocked up that demon chick you told me stop hanging around with! We're keeping the baby, who's going to be half demon but it's all good because we'll raise it to be good." The snarling sarcasm in her voice made Sam cringe.

"Don't do anything to it, Ruby. I mean it! Come to the hotel and get a room. We have to take care of this situation first but after I get back, we'll talk."

"Whatever."

"I mean it Ruby!"

"Fine! I'll talk to you later, Sam."

Sam hung up, taking a deep and slightly shaky breath. Pregnant. She was pregnant. He forced himself to stop hyperventilating and calmed himself. He couldn't deal with this right now. One girl was still missing, Sammi was having a complete and utter meltdown, and Megan had had her memories erased. He strode over to the group, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets in order to stop them from shaking.

" Oh, sure, NOW you come over." Sammi was glaring at him, panic-stricken-mania in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sammi. I had to take that call. We're going to do everything we can to get your friend back, ok?"

Sammi snorted, giving him an angry, disbelieving look. "You really think now is the time be giving me that schpeel? The 'everything's going to be ok 'cause we're on the job schpeel'? Don't bullshit me, Sam! I am not some teenage infidel who's too busy putting on make and going to parties to not recognize when I'm being played." She glared at him with the full effect of fury in her eyes. He opened his mouth to reply but closed it when she glared at him.

"Hey, you listen to me, ok? It's going to be alright. We'll get her back before anything permanently damaging occurs. I know you're worried, and I know you're tired, but I need you to trust me." Dean hands held her arms, keeping her directly in front of him and at arms length, trying to convey the certainty and seriousness behind his tone.

Carson heard them be announced to the Court, and though her heat was beating wildly she was determined to not give these bastards any sense of satisfaction. She would not bow or break before them, would not allow them to mock her final act of martyrdom (or, as she preferred to call it, stupidity). She knew what was awaiting her later, and knew that her last moments on Earth would be spent in the company of people she desired to rot in hell. What she did not know was, knowing what she knew, how she would manage to keep her mask of indifference.

At this moment in time, when she had nothing left, she could only cling to the one thing they could not take from her; her face. As the doors opened, she felt her lips curve into a haughty smirk. She did not know how to be truly brave, or truly noble, but she was fairly certain that being defiant was something she could pull off. They strode through the large oaken doors together and the room went silent, as though someone had stolen all of their voices.

No, she was not brave or a martyr, but she was determined to be indifferent and defiant to the end; let the fae pigs dwell on that for awhile. The Queen sat upon her dais, looking almost porcelain and untouchable on her throne. She had tanned skin, olive as some would call it and dark silky hair that lay on her shoulders, a tangle of curls. Her eyes were dark, almost black, if somewhat warmer. Her gown was a crimson red, brightly contrasting the black silk that lay beneath. She did not stand when Carson entered the room and approached the dais, merely smiled and bowed her head in acknowledgment.

Carson curtsied deeply, trying not to wobble, and keep her dignity at the same time. It was somewhat ungraceful, but not entirely a disaster. She rose before the Queen, her head held high. The Queen smiled graciously and gestured with her right hand to a smaller throne, seated on the dais next to her. Carson stepped away from Cebhain, giving him a smaller curtsy, before standing in front of the smaller throne to the Queen's right hand. That's what you're supposed to do, right? Stand until she sits?

Apparently it was a win for decorum. The Queen sat and Carson followed, earning a broad smile from the so-far benevolent Queen. Carson couldn't help but notice though, that the nicer and more generous the Queen was, the more creepy and sinister she seemed. 'Yeah, probably cause they're going to KILL you!'

"So, my dear child, how are you enjoying my court?"

"I find it very pleasing, your majesty, very satisfactory." Carson didn't know why she was being so damned polite to the bitch that wanted her dead, but it was starting to irritate her.

"That's excellent my dear. I'm glad you are enjoying yourself. Cebhain is a fine Lord and escort, is he not?"

Carson kept the smile on her face, though she truly wanted to rip the smug look off of the Queen's face. Did she seriously just ask me if I was fond of the man who, later this evening, is going to kill me?

"He is a very gallant nobleman indeed, majesty. He was kind enough to provide me with suitable garments for the occasion and quarters for rest."

The Queen's eyes glittered in the light. "Such a clever mortal you are, convincing them to take you in your friend's stead, and then bargaining for the changeling's fate. Tis a pity that you will die tonight, for you would have been most welcome in my court."

Yeah. That's comforting.

Sammi had, more or less, passed out in Dean's arms shortly after they had begun discussing what to do. It had been a very, very long night after all. He had taken her back into her hotel room, with Megan hot on his heels with concern. Megan ushered to the bed side to pull back the covers as Dean laid Sammi down, pulling off her shoes. Megan watched this from the foot of the bed, shifting from foot to foot, thinking to herself how awkward this was.

Feeling a strange sense come over her, a tingling feeling of sorts, she sprinted outside. Looking around quickly, she became more alarmed. The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and a chill went down her spine. Sam, seeing the look on her face, straightened and frowned, watching her eyes dart here and there, searching for something.

"What's wrong?"

Megan slowly turned in a circle, trying to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. "We have company." Though her voice was strong, it came out barely a whisper.

Dean walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, fixing his collar and running a hand over his face in aggravation. He stopped short and frowned in confusion when he saw Megan behaving strangely. He looked at Sam, with a questioning look.

"She says we're not alone."

Dean looked around again, seeing nothing, but felt the strange sensation in his spine. He spun around, looking for the source.

"Sam, get Megan inside!" His eyes were scanning the parking lot, but couldn't see where it was coming from. Then, he realized that he heard no movement.

"Sam, are you listening to me?" He turned to glare at him but stopped short when he realized Sam wasn't moving. He was stock still, his eyes wide open, in the same position that he had been in before Dean turned his back.

"Sam?" Dean waved his hand in front of Sam's face, but there was no response.

"Megan?" He turned to her and she was also frozen in time, her mouth opened and her brow furrowed, as she had clearly been about to say something.

"So nice to see you again, Dean."

Dean spun around to find the Kelpy staring back at him, a large bundle in his arms. His face hardened and he could feel the anger come back, stronger than ever. He stepped forward as though to lunge and attack, though he had no weapon to speak of.

"Ah, ah, ah, Dean. Don't want to hurt your own daughter, do you?"

Dean inhaled sharply as the kelpy peeled back a corner of the blanket to reveal Avery, still two years old, sleeping in the tightly wound mass of blankets. The kelpy all but threw her at him, and Dean caught her in his arms and held her close to him, looking at the Kelpy incredulously.

The Kelpy sneered slightly, cocking his head to the side. "Compliments of the sacrifice, of course."

"Sacrifice...? Where is she?"

The Kelpy clucked his tongue. "Now Dean, after last time, I should think that you would already know the answer to that."

"What? You mean the time you led me into an ambush, where I was given a false deal? What was it that I was told? Oh, right 'Survive this ordeal, 3 trials to test your integrity and determination, and you may win your daughter's freedom.' I survived your goddamn tests, and my daughter remained with you!"

"Ah, but Dean, you could never survive those tests; your soul was already dead. It's been dead since your wife died, hasn't it? You could never have truly won."

"So it was a false deal since conception? Oh, that's so much more comforting." His voice of sarcasm came out a snarl.

The Kelpy shrugged and began to disappear in a shimmer.

"What do I have to do to win her life?"

The Kelpy chuckled ominously, glaring at him as he disappeared into thin air.

"You can't."


End file.
